✑︵ ‿⊹❝ONCE UPON A TIME❞... ❚ Inkypaw SRP

Instructions

[ ✑︵ ‿⊹❝ONCE UPON A TIME❞... ❚ Inkypaw SRP ] Inkykit had always loved stories. Enchanting tales of brave warriors fighting off evil- within the clan or outside the clan, a badger or fox or Gloom-borne terror- and carving their names in mythos for generations to come with acts of valor and might. Of good triumphing over evil, of hard-fought legacy and well-earned legend- it all entranced the kit like nothing else could! He could entertain himself for hours at a time just running the stories back through his mind, on occasion rewriting elements and imagining alternate scenarios for how things could have turned out, though always landing back on the nice, easy ending he'd intially heard. How else, he'd think, would the story have been passed down if the heroes hadn't won? There was nothing the young kit wanted more than for himself and his life to join the ranks of the heroes he'd heard so much about. To be remembered by the clan for seasons to come for his good deeds and bravery. A part of Inkykit wanted to go out and start his plot, begin enacting the noble deeds he always wished for- but fear always dragged the poor boy down into idleness, any scheme shot down by the worst possible outcome, caution overcoming ambition tenfold. The first few quiet moons of his life lazily glided by like the clouds he gazed upon so dreamily. Good times spent with his siblings, playing at deputy with the ever-noble Softkit his leader, hours passed by daydreams and intent listening to stories from any cat willing to tell them. Inkykit tried not to mind how little he was trying to acomplish- for what legend occurs primarily in kithood?- but it began to bug him more and more as he grew. /Surely this moon/, he'd think, /this will be the one. I'll get the warriors to teach me battle moves, I'll climb the tallest tree in camp, I'll convince my siblings to join me in an expedition into the territory. Surely today, surely tomorrow.../ But he never would. Always too scared of tripping up and getting injured or worse, of his reputation being forever tainted by a dumb decision as a bumbling kit. Inkykit stayed in his comfort zone, trying desperately to emulate the inspirational traits of the kits and cats around him but never managing to command that aura himself; not even a follower to a leader but a civilian out of the situation, a footnote to a preface. Until one day, he was called up and named and suddenly it was time to make something of himself. Apprenticeship was /the/ main portion of so many tales, how could he have let himself enter so unprepared, so unpracticed? Ink could barely hold himself in a respectable manner, let alone go out and earn the monikers he was destined to wear. What sort of brave warrior froze in the face of a fake enemy? What sort of honorable deputy lay awake at night from cautionary nursery tales, paralyzed by fear of a fox snatching away naughty kits? What sort of hero was too scared to even start his journey? Inkypaw curled up in his new nest, burying his face in his paws. He was overwhelmed by a responsibility he had imposed upon himself, embarrassed at his lack of progress in a goal so lofty at an age so young. But he was "royalty", and his standards thusly needed to be so much higher. Ink liked to believe he was placed on the Hollowclan border by the Divine itself, and it was about time he acted like it. He lifted himself up with a start, swishing his tail quietly against the cool ground, eyes burning with conviction. Inkypaw would no longer be a shaky kit spooked by the slightest of risks; he was running out of time and couldn't waste it in fear. If Ink were to make something of himself, he'd have to start soon. Wait any longer and the plot would sweep up another promising protagonist and move on from a background character like him. His gaze flicked quickly over to the pristine, perfect leader Softpaw nearby- Inkypaw couldn't drag his majesty down by being such a baby, now could he? Settling down into an uneasy rest, Ink's mind raced with ideas and plans and resolutions, a rhythm of ambition that slowly lulled the new apprentice to sleep...